Searching For Release
by Autumn Opals
Summary: He was feeling adventurous and daring tonight...Dudley Dursley's hulking figure stood at the closed park gates. Harry's recovering from the loss of his godfather and one restless night he goes seeking release from his raging emotions. Post OotP.


**Searching For Release**  
  
Harry Potter sighed heavily as he stared out at the summer night sky. The sky was just beginning to show a sprinkle of stars, and the missing breeze from last summer was playing across his face.  
  
The weather this summer was the exact opposite of last year. Floods were threatening and the winds were wild. The occupants of London were almost always under a cloud cover now.  
  
Harry enjoyed watching the clouds. They were voluminous and looming much like Harry's ever persistent emotions. He'd taken to watching them consistently at night when he couldn't sleep.  
  
Tonight though the cloud cover had disappeared, so out came the hidden stars.  
  
Harry wished the cloud cover would come back. That way he didn't have to see the twinkling sky and be reminded of the person named after a star. Even the faintest trace of a star could send Harry's mind spiraling away to memories of Sirius.  
  
Harry turned away and shut his window with a bit of a slam. There was a warning growl from his uncle at this, but Harry shrugged it away. They didn't want Moody turning up, and if they didn't want that then they'd have to put up with Harry.  
  
Briefly, Harry entertained the thought of who Dumbledore would hire for Defense this year, but the thought was short lived.  
  
Soon Harry's thoughts circled the subject of Dumbledore and the prophesy.  
  
Harry sighed again rubbing his grainy eyes with one hand. He was so tired...tired of it all.  
  
With a soft thump Harry flopped restless and upset on his bed.  
  
Why him?  
  
Why did he have to be the hero?  
  
Why did he have to have disturbing dreams?  
  
Why...?  
  
Grunting, Harry pulled himself from bed and exited his room. Stamping down the stairs to the door he yelled that he was going out.  
  
In actuality Harry was not allowed out. Dumbledore had forbid Harry from it, but Harry was tired of this too. He was feeling adventurous and daring tonight. Besides, what was the purpose of a guard just hanging around the house?  
  
There were no objections either as he trudged out the door, so Harry continued his way out.  
  
His feet took him along last summer's haunt ending with the park. The gate was closed but Harry swung himself over top.  
  
Spraying sand everywhere, Harry vented his frustrations.  
  
He tackled the cool metal slide first. He'd race up it then slide down it dragging a sharp rock along the already dented surface. Harry did this repeatedly giving the rock more and more pressure each turn.  
  
Finally Harry left the slide for the swings many of which had already been attacked by his cousin and his gang. A twinge of consciousness swam in Harry's head, but he ignored the voice telling him he was no better than his cousin. He was the Boy Who Lived and if anyone deserved to disfigure the park it was him.  
  
Harry charged at a swing pushing it so that it was wrapped tightly to the top pole. Then he flung two together into a huge knot of metal rings.  
  
"Nice work, Potter!" a loud voice called across the park and Harry spun wildly around.  
  
Dudley Dursley's hulking figure stood at the closed park gates.  
  
At the sight of his cousin Harry crashed to back to reality. The throbbing of living returned to his weary frame and he looked down at his hands.  
  
Harry nearly screamed when he saw the blood and grit on his hands. There was blood on his hands! It was something that came to haunt him every time he managed to fall asleep.  
  
However, the blood was not that of his godfather, Sirius Black, or his parents. Not even Cedric. It was his own and once the truth caught up with him he calmed. He deserved it.  
  
"It needs something else though," Dudley continued.  
  
He swung himself up on the top of the gate (it squeaked under his bulk) and hopped off with surprising grace (with the release the gate groaned). Harry supposed the fluid motion came from practice at breaking into the park often to mutilate the swings.  
  
Marching over to Harry Dudley looked much like his rival Malfoy. His hair was shining a brilliant blond under the starlight and light coming from the streetlamps outside of the park. Dudley even had a similar stride.  
  
However, when Dudley got closer Harry could see the differences besides the obvious differences in figure. His cousin's face was not twisted in a malicious sneer, nor were his eyes grey and hard. He looked quite docile though arrogant.  
  
"You need a sign." Dudley replied once he reached Harry; "You know to let people know this is your territory."  
  
Harry was puzzled; "Isn't it your territory?"  
  
Dudley shrugged; "Might be. We'll just have to come beat you up for it."  
  
Harry's eyes widened; "What about my magic?"  
  
Unlike Uncle Vernon Dudley did not roar like an enraged bull at the word magic, but did look slightly disquieted by the word; "I never said we would, and if we did it wouldn't be a real beating...just a little roughing up until you hand it back over."  
  
Harry continued to be disturbed by this, but simply raised an eyebrow; "I've got guard following me around you know. I'm not even supposed to leave the house."  
  
Dudley looked nonplussed at this; "So what are you doing out now?"  
  
Harry felt his simmering anger begin to bubble again; "So what?"  
  
Dudley's lips quirked; "Touchy subject, eh?"  
  
Harry glowered; "You've no right!"  
  
"You're like a caged animal!" Dudley cried with mirth; "Escaped from the zoo!"  
  
Harry opened his mouth for a furious retort, but realized what his cousin had said true and clamped it shut again.  
  
Seeing no rise from Harry Dudley continued; "So your sign..."  
  
Harry snorted; "I don't want a sign."  
  
"Everybody wants a sign." Dudley insisted; "Why shouldn't you?"  
  
"I've already got a sign." Harry said flicking up his fringe.  
  
Dudley's face morphed into what must have been a painful, thoughtful expression; "Not really that's just a scar."  
  
"It's what everybody looks at to confirm I am who I say I am." Harry growled; "I don't want a sign. I don't want anymore titles."  
  
"Hey, hey, hey!" Dudley said; "I never said anything about titles."  
  
Harry grunted in dissatisfaction. He'd just given his cousin more information.  
  
"I don't want a sign." Harry repeated petulantly.  
  
Dudley's lips curled; "Well, then I'll just put my sign here and take the credit."  
  
"No!" Harry shouted suddenly then frowning backed away; "I mean...sure."  
  
Dudley did grin now. It was a manipulative grin too; "You don't want to take credit for finally snapping at the pressure of the world?"  
  
Harry took several more steps back, jaw hanging in surprise.  
  
"For taking rage that you've killed the only man you've ever loved like a father?" Dudley pressed grinning wider with confidence in his knowledge.  
  
"You...you've been listening to me again..." Harry stuttered, but suddenly the downcast emerald orbs flared to life; "You've been bloody listening in on my personal dreams! I'LL BLOODY KILL YOU!"  
  
Dudley's face flickered with emotion; "No you won't."  
  
Harry looked taken aback; "How do you know I won't?"  
  
"You can't handle more blood on your hands." Dudley said assertively.  
  
Harry gaped; "How do you know? You don't even like me!"  
  
Dudley scoffed; "I may not like you, but that doesn't make me deaf. I hear you every night crying out for your dead godfather who you think you killed inadvertently!"  
  
Harry's face paled but his eyes flashed.  
  
"You know nothing!" he spat.  
  
Dudley shrugged and ignored Harry rummaging for something in his pocket. He withdrew a slim, black lighter. Surprisingly, his hand did not dive back in his pocket for a package of fags. Instead, he held it high and flicked it on moving closer to the bundle of metal Harry had made from the two swings.  
  
Harry came nearer out of curiosity as Dudley leaned in close to the metal ball. The lighter cast shadows on his face as lowered it to the metal- blackening it.  
  
Suddenly Harry felt apprehensive and a tad selfishly worried; "What are you doing?"  
  
Dudley mumbled something.  
  
"Sorry?" Harry asked now dancing on the balls of his feet; "What-what are you doing?"  
  
"Don't worry," Dudley repeated, exasperated, adding; "Lord...!"  
  
Harry continued to worry the emotion festering inside of him; "Please...?"  
  
"I'm almost finished," Dudley growled finally stepping back; "Take a look."  
  
Harry did.  
  
Dudley had used the lighter to blacken out a picture on the metal ball of links. No, wait. It wasn't a picture. It was a symbol.  
  
"Hey!" Harry began sharply, but Dudley cut him off.  
  
"That's not my symbol," he rumbled sticking his hand into his pocket at last for a fag. When he had lit it up and inhaled a great lungful he continued billowing smoke as he talked; "It's yours."  
  
Harry had forgotten about the symbol now though. He was looking interestedly at the fag and smoke.  
  
"Is that any good?" he asked abruptly.  
  
Dudley chuckled blowing smoke; "You want one?"  
  
Harry looked slightly abashed, but answered; "Maybe,"  
  
"What'll you give me if I give you one?"  
  
Harry thought hard; "I'll let you beat me up once."  
  
Dudley considered; "Why not the gang and I beat you up once?"  
  
"No," Harry replied stubbornly, but reasoned; "I can't say I'll be able to control my magic even against you."  
  
Dudley recoiled some; "How about we forget the beating and you let me take credit for the slide, and don't call me Big D anymore?"  
  
Harry grinned; "I dunno. I kind of like Big D..."  
  
"Take it or leave it,"  
  
"You've got yourself a deal...Diddydums."  
  
Dudley grumbled, but handed over a fag.  
  
Cautiously, Harry accepted it and the light thrust into his face; "Thanks...this relaxes you, right?"  
  
Dudley gave him an odd look; "Yeah, I suppose."  
  
His response was less than comforting to Harry, but Harry reminded himself he wasn't in Gryffindor for nothing. Screwing up his face he placed the burning fag to his lips and sucked on it.  
  
When nothing happened Harry released the smoke. Coughing once he thought to himself it wasn't that bad.  
  
Then as Dudley wandered over to brand the slide Harry took a deeper breath on his fag.  
  
It burned...the whole way down it burned more viciously than Pepper Up. His eyes widened and his breath caught.  
  
Nearly gagging Harry stumbled away choking on the smoke.  
  
Dudley sniggered; "Don't wizards smoke?"  
  
"No," Harry replied shortly between coughs.  
  
When finished with the slide he came over to investigate though, and found Harry wiped out on a bench a pool of sick at his feet.  
  
Harry handed it back to him weakly; "I don't think it agrees with wizards."  
  
Dudley smiled; "First time's always hard."  
  
"I don't think I want a second time." Harry replied; "Besides, it smells horrible."  
  
"Kind of like those Dementoids?"  
  
Harry glanced quickly over at his cousin; "Yeah,"  
  
Dudley looked surprised; "You've been close to them?"  
  
Harry nodded tiredly the past rushing to him and visibly draining him; "I have."  
  
Dudley appeared confused and ignored Harry's lack of conversation; "But I thought you chased them away?"  
  
Sighing Harry nodded again; "Yeah, but I had to learn how to get rid of them first."  
  
"Oh," Dudley answered pulling another fag out as a shiver rocked its way up his spine; "They're horrible."  
  
"Yeah,"  
  
"What do you hear?" Dudley asked curiously.  
  
Harry's half closed eyes shot open; "Wh-what?"  
  
Dudley now seemed uncomfortable, as if he was fully realizing what a personal question it was; "I said...wh-what do y-you hear?"  
  
Harry granted Dudley a full on stare, before answering quietly; "I used to hear my parents deaths."  
  
"Your parents deaths?"  
  
"Yeah,"  
  
"What do you hear now?"  
  
"Now?" Harry confirmed; "Well, I haven't seen any Dementors recently, but I suspect I'd see my godfather's death and Merlin knows what else."  
  
"Merlin?" Dudley choked on his laughter.  
  
Harry made a noise of agreement; "Dudley, what do you hear?"  
  
Dudley cut his laughter short; "Hear?"  
  
"Yeah, since you asked me...what do you hear?" Harry explained.  
  
Dudley shivered and clutched his coat closer.  
  
"Dudley?" Harry addressed curiously.  
  
"Promise you won't laugh?" Dudley requested, but something in his eyes had a strange begging quality; "Promise...?"  
  
Harry nodded seriously, and so as to not disrupt the precarious atmosphere breathed; "Of course,"  
  
"Well..." Dudley dawdled; "I-I hear...y-you actually."  
  
"Me?" Harry wondered aloud in bewilderment; "You hear me?"  
  
Dudley moved his head in a solemn agreeable motion, but he locked his eyes on the ground; "I hear you screaming at night, and that's what I heard when the Demembers nearly...n-nearly s-s-sucked m-m-m-m-my s-soul out last summer."  
  
Harry choked; "What? That's mad! You were the one who loved to hear me scream when you guys used to beat me up."  
  
Dudley acknowledged this with a dip of his head.  
  
Harry continued to splutter and stare; "Y-You hate me..."  
  
Dudley didn't argue.  
  
"I-I don't know what to say..." Harry said with much confusion laced in his tone; "I...I need to go..."  
  
Dudley waved him away lighting up another fag and sucking viciously on it.  
  
Harry walked toward the park gates, but stopped at the knot of what used to be two swings.  
  
Dudley had formed a misshapen lightning bolt on the metal links.  
  
Suddenly, though Harry knew it wasn't that and sucked a sharp breath in.  
  
An antler...an antler of a stag...Harry's patronus and father...  
  
Timidly, Harry touched the now cool black antler.  
  
"D-Dudley?" Harry called softly; "Thanks..."  
  
Dudley peered through the billowing smoke surrounding his head; "Ah, I lied before; that's my symbol. It's mine."  
  
Harry knew better though when he looked over at the slide and saw a simple, large "D".  
  
Harry exited the park, but as he clambered over the gate he could've swore he heard a quiet voice tell him; "I may hate you, but I don't wish you death..."  
  
It could have been the guard who'd said this, but who else but Snape would say something like that? Besides, Harry could've sworn he'd smelt the distinct whiff of drink and stale tobacco.  
  
It wasn't much of a consolation, but it would do for now. Harry returned home and swore the wards were stronger now than they'd been in a long time...if ever.  
  
**The End**


End file.
